Love Only Once (14 page)
“Bloody hell!” Nicholas swore. He left Percy and went to fetch his cloak.
Nicholas took a deep breath of the night air as he stepped outside to await his carriage, which was across the street. Then he took another deep breath. It did not calm him.
“Wait up, Nick.” Percy came down the stairs. “It might help if you talk to a friend.”
“Not tonight, Percy, I’m on the short end of my temper.”
“Because of Malory?” Nicholas grunted. “Oh, it’s because she left with Georgie, then, is that it?”
“
She
can leave with whomever she bloody well pleases, for all I care!”
“Gad, don’t eat me,” Percy protested, backing away a little. “Old George is really…not actually harmless, but…well, dash it all, she’s engaged to you. She—” He saw he was only making matters worse. “I don’t believe it. Can the unfeeling Montieth really and truly be jealous for a change?”
“Of course I’m not jealous,” Nicholas snapped. “I simply hoped tonight would be the end of it.”
Except that he had seen red, dark red, when George Fowler put his hand to Regina’s elbow. Fowler was young, he was handsome, and damn Malory for saying he had been after Regina last season!
“What the devil are you talking about, Nick? End of what?”
“This farce of an engagement. You didn’t
really think I would marry the girl just because I was browbeaten into agreeing to it?”
Percy whistled softly. “So that’s what you were doing, sniffing round Mrs. H. I knew she wasn’t your type.” Nicholas shook his head. “But I thought you were trying to make your lady jealous.”
“Furious, enough to jilt me. It’s not the first time I’ve chased after another skirt with her there watching. I even gave my full attention to Selena, as disgusted as I am with her. But Regina has not spoken up about it once.”
“Maybe the girl loves you,” Percy said simply.
“I don’t want her love, I want her hate,” Nicholas growled. Now, he told himself, not after he was used to her love, had come to depend on it and returned it. He couldn’t bear her hate then.
“Well, you’re in a fine pickle. What if she doesn’t break off with you? Will you jilt her?”
Nicholas looked skyward. “I gave my word I’d marry her.”
“Then you might end up doing just that.”
“I know.”
“Would it be so bad?”
He was afraid it would be heaven, but he wasn’t going to say that to Percy. His carriage pulled up to the curb then and he asked, “Do me a favor, Percy? Go back in there and give my future in-law a message for me. Tell him he had better have a talk with his niece about who she lets take her home.” He chuckled. “If he thinks
it matters to me, he might redouble his own efforts to get her to jilt me. If nothing else, the message will irritate him. That makes me happy.” And he did look better.
“Thanks much, old man. He’s liable to take
my
head off, getting a message like that,” Percy said.
“Depend upon it.” Nicholas smiled. “But you’ll do it for me anyway, won’t you? That’s a good fellow.”
Nicholas laughed at the expression on Percy’s face, and waved as his carriage moved down the driveway.
It took only a moment for his good humor to flee. Tonight was proof that he couldn’t take much more of Regina’s presence. Her touch alone had brought him to his knees. Damnation! He had tried staying away from her as much as possible, but while that was more comfortable, it didn’t change his predicament. They were still, in fact, engaged.
“End of the road, mate,” broke into his reverie.
Mate?
From
his
staid driver?
Nicholas glanced out the window and saw, not his house, but trees close at hand. Nothing but dismal black lay beyond. How had he been so preoccupied as not to know he was being taken outside London to the countryside? Or was he in one of London’s huge parks? If so, it might as well be the bloody countryside for all the traffic that might pass at night.
What the devil had Malory done, hired a thug
to deal with him so Anthony could swear to Regina that he had not touched Nicholas? He could just see her uncle laughing about it with his friends.
Nicholas smiled grimly. This was one way to let off steam. Why hadn’t he thought of it himself?
E
ARLIER in the evening, just after Nicholas and Regina arrived at Mrs. Hargreaves’ in the West End, a short, stocky fellow named Timothy Pye hailed a passing hack and gave the driver the address of a tavern near the waterfront.
Timothy did odd jobs, from an honest day’s work on the docks to slitting a man’s throat. He admitted to a partiality for easy jobs, and this one was about as easy as they got. His friend Neddy was working with him. All they had to do was follow this nabob wherever he went and every so often report the lord’s whereabouts to their employer.
It was Timothy’s turn to report, and it didn’t take long to reach the better-class tavern where the bloke was staying. Upstairs, he pounded on the door. It took only a moment to open.
Two men were in the room. One was a tall, thin fellow with a huge, bushy red beard. The other was a young man of medium height, a boy really, pretty in a girlish sort of way, with black hair and darkest blue eyes. Timothy had seen
the younger fellow only once before in the half-dozen times he had reported to the older man. Their names had never been given, nor did Timothy care to know who they were. He simply did as he was paid to do, no questions asked.
“’E’s settled in fer the evenin’, so it ’pears,” Timothy began, speaking to the red-bearded one. “Some party o’er the West End. Lots o’ fancy hacks linin’ the street both sides.”
“Alone?”
Timothy grinned here. “Brought the fancy piece wi’ ’im in his carriage, same as before. Took her inside. I saw ’em.”
“Are you certain it’s the same lady, Mr. Pye, the one who left without him last time?”
Timothy nodded. “Can’t rightly ferget that’n, sir. She’s a bleedin’ beauty, she is.”
The younger man spoke. “Must be his mistress, don’t you think? Me father said he’s not the type to waste his time on anyone he’s not beddin’.”
“Blast it, boy!” Red beard growled. “
My
father.
My
, not
me
. Why is it you never make these slips when your old man is around? It’s only my ears that are cursed.”
The young man flushed red all the way down his chest, a fact revealed by his loose shirt. His dark blue eyes averted in embarrassment, he moved over to a table where a deck of cards was spread out next to a bottle of wine and two glasses. He sat down there and shuffled the cards, intending to ignore the rest of the report after being humiliated.
“You were saying, Mr. Pye.”
“Right, sir.” The “sir” came naturally, for the bloke might not look exactly like a gentleman with that bushy red beard, but he talked like one. “I know’d ye want ter be ‘earin’ ’bout the fancy, ’case she leaves wi’out ’im agin t’night.”
“How is the lighting on the street?”
“Fair. But not so bright me and Neddy can’t take down the driver nice an’ quiet-like.”
“Then perhaps tonight is the night.” Red beard smiled for the first time. “You know what to do if the opportunity presents itself, Mr. Pye.”
“Right, sir. You don’t want the fancy involved, I know, sir. If’e comes out alone, we ’ave ’im.”
The door closed behind Pye and Conrad Sharpe laughed. It was a deep resounding laugh for such a thin man. “Oh, don’t sulk, lad. If all goes well, we may be on our way home tomorrow.”
“You didn’t have to go correcting me in front of the likes of him, Connie. My father don’t correct me in front of others.”
“Doesn’t,” Conrad corrected again. “Your father is a fairly new father and, so being, he takes pains to spare your feelings, Jeremy.”
“And you don’t?”
“Why should I, brat?”
There was genuine affection in the older man’s manners, and young Jeremy grinned at
last. “If they get him tonight, will I get to go along?”
“Sorry, lad. It will be a messy business that your father won’t want you to see.”
“I’m sixteen!” Jeremy protested. “I’ve lived through a
sea battle
.”
“Just barely.”
“Regardless—”
“No,” Conrad said adamantly. “Even if your father agreed, I wouldn’t let you. You don’t need to see your father at his worst.”
“He’s only going to teach him a lesson, Connie.”
“Yes, but because you were hurt, the lesson will be harsh. And his pride is involved, too. You didn’t hear the slurs and taunts the young lord rubbed into the open wound. You were flat on your back with a near-mortal wound.”
“Thanks to him! Which is why—”
“I said no!” Conrad cut him short again.
“Oh, all right,” Jeremy grumbled. “But I still don’t see why we’ve gone to all this fuss and bother, having him trailed in Southampton to no luck, then wasting two weeks here in London doing the same thing. It would have been much more fun just to sink one of his ships.”
Conrad chuckled. “Your father should hear your idea of fun. But as for that, this lord may have only six ships to his merchant line, but losing one wouldn’t tickle his pocket. Your father is determined to even the score on a more personal level.”
“And then can we go home?”
“Yes, lad. And you can get back to your proper schooling.”
Jeremy made a face and Conrad Sharpe laughed. Then they heard a female giggle coming from the room next door, where Jeremy’s father was, and Jeremy’s grimace turned to a hot blush, making Conrad laugh all the harder.
S
TILL baked from the day’s heat, the ground was warm beneath his cheek. Or perhaps he had lain in that spot for hours and his own body heat had warmed the ground, he didn’t know. These thoughts went through Nicholas’ mind when he came to and opened his eyes.
He next called himself a fool, ten kinds of a fool. Gentleman that he was, he had simply stepped out of his carriage, never dreaming he would be attacked even before his foot touched the ground.
He spat dirt out of his mouth. They had apparently left him lying where he’d fallen. Careful movement told him his hands were tied behind his back, and nearly numb besides. Famous. With sharp stabs shooting though his head, he would be lucky if he could get to his knees, let alone his feet.
If
they had left him his carriage, he wouldn’t be able to drive it without the use of his hands. Had they left the carriage?
Twisting his head agonizingly to the side, Nicholas saw one of the carriage wheels—and a pair of boots beside it.
“You’re still here?” he asked incredulously.
“An’ where would I be goin’, mate?”
“Back to your den of thieves, I assume,” Nicholas answered.
The fellow laughed. What the devil did this mean? Wasn’t this just a common robbery, then? He thought of Malory again, but try as he might, he couldn’t conceive of the fellow hiring someone to rough him up.
“Have I been unconscious long?” Nicholas asked. His head throbbed.
“A good hour, mate, ter be sure.”
“Then would you mind telling me what the bloody hell you’re waiting for?” Nicholas growled. “Rob me and be about your business!”
Again the fellow laughed. “Did that, mate, right off. Wasn’t told I couldn’t, so I did. But me business is right ’ere, seein’ ye stay put.”
Nicholas tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness toppled him. He cursed, trying again.
“Steady, mate. Don’t be tryin’ no tricks now, or I’ll ’ave ter let yer ’ave another taste o’ me cudgel.”
Nicholas sat up, his knees bent to support his chest. Deep breathing helped. He finally got a look at the slovenly creature. He wasn’t impressed. If he could just get to his feet, he would make short work of the fellow even with his hands tied.
“Be a good fellow and help me up, will you?”
“That’s funny, mate. Yer twice the size o’ me. I weren’t born yesterdy.”
So much for that, Nicholas thought. “What have you done with my driver?”
“Dumped ’im in an alley. Ye needn’t worry. ’E’ll wake up wi’ a ’eadache, same as ye ’ave, but he’ll be a’right.”
“Where are we?”
“I liked ye better when ye were asleep,” the footpad answered. “Too many questions.”
“You can at least tell me what we are doing here,” Nicholas asked impatiently.
“Yer sittin’ in the middle o’ the road, and I’m makin’ sure ye stay there.”
“No, what you’re doing is making me angry!” Nicholas snapped.
“That worries me, mate,” the fellow snickered, “it surely do.”
With just a little leverage and effort, he could plow his head right into the ignominious bastard’s belly, Nicholas thought. But his planning was interrupted by the sound of another carriage approaching. Since the footpad was not making haste to leave the scene, Nicholas concluded uncomfortably that the carriage was expected. What bloody next? “Friends of yours?”
The fellow shook his head. “I told ye, mate, ye ask too many questions.”
The outside lamp on the approaching carriage illuminated the area and what Nicholas saw was naggingly familiar. Hyde Park? He rode the paths there every morning and knew them as well as the grounds of Silverley. Would they dare accost him so close to his home?
The carriage stopped twenty feet away, and
the driver got down and brought the carriage lantern forward. Behind him two men left the carriage, but Nicholas could see only vague shapes because the light was thrust toward his own face. He tried to stand, but Pye’s cudgel pressed down on his shoulder warningly.
“A very pretty picture, eh, Connie?” he heard, and then, “Indeed, yes. All trussed up and awaiting your pleasure.”
Their laughter grated on Nicholas’ oversensitive nerves. He didn’t recognize the voices, but they were cultured accents. What enemies had he made recently among the fashionable set? Good God, dozens! All the past suitors of his bride-to-be.
“A splendid job, my good fellows.” A purse was tossed to the cudgel-wielder, and another to the short, stocky carriage driver. “Just light that lamp there for us, and then you may return the hired hack. We’ll make use of this carriage since his lordship won’t be needing it.”
